


All Hail The King

by CupofCoffee626



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Age Reversal, Angst, Apprentice - Freeform, Blackmail, Difficult Decisions, Drug Use, Everyone makes bad decisions, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Going To Hell For This, M/M, Mental Coercion, Multi, OldestDamian!, Polyamory, Power Dynamics, Protective Siblings, Youngest!Dick, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2020-07-24 22:17:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20021926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CupofCoffee626/pseuds/CupofCoffee626
Summary: Batsiblings age reversal au! Chapter three up!Damian is cracking under the pressure to keep Artemis and Kaldur alive when Deathstroke threatens their lives to once again keep Dick under his control. After a year as Slade's apprentice, Dick is allowed back at the manor for an unknown amount of time. His brothers and partners are starting to see the damage their little bird has sustained, and fearing the day Wilson comes to take him back.Damien: 26Tim: 23Jason:20Dick: 15





	1. Prologue

He couldn’t keep his knee from bouncing. Dick took a long breath, closing his eyes to focus only on the sound of the engine pushing the black jeep up the long and winding Wayne Manor driveway, and the pounding rain, reflecting off of the headlights into the night sky.  
Wintergreen glanced at the fifteen year old as he navigated to a parked position. Silence pressed upon both of them as a full minute passed. “All that fuss to get here and now you won’t even spare a glance.” He left the car running.  
Dick sighed and looked up at the intimidating stone entrance. Even after 6 years after he first stared up at the massive mansion, he still felt like the orphan boy clutching to his stuffed elephant wondering what the future could hold. “I should have just stayed at base. Why would th-“ 

“We are here now, Master Grayson. Stop stalling and face your present, I must catch a plane.” The teen slammed his head into the back of the seat, sighing again but deeper this time. Without another word, he got out of the car and walked up to the wooden doors.  
The car sped away as Dick gathered the courage to knock. His knuckles hit the dark wood so softly he doubted if his own ears even heard it. It didn’t matter. The highly secured gate they had to drive through had already alerted someone to their presence.

He hoped for Alfred. Expected Bruce. The man usually was found attending to case files and research at this time at night. Dick should have known that this schedule had changed after a year, he mentally scolded himself as Damian opened the door.  
Even in his overly elitist silk pajamas, his older brother stands straight like royalty, his usually neutral face expressing shock. The rain poured on as the two stared at each other, until Dick broke the silence. “…I…can I come in?” 

As if hit by lightning, Damian moved aside and let the younger in the entranceway. He scanned the boy infront of him critically, taking in the tight jeans and hoodie pulled up over his head, peering at the bright blue eyes staring back at him. Dick nervously looked to the side, and took a deep breath. Damian’s brows showed a hundred questions, but his lips spoke only one, in a stern, controlled voice. “Does he know you’re here?” 

The Romani boy bit his lip, then nodded, “He has business to attend to and has allowed me time off. Spent my vacation days, ya know? Heard Gotham was lovely this time of yea-“ 

Dick’s attempt at relieving tension was immediately ignored, “You are still under his control.” Damian concluded. “. . . he seeks to taunt me.” 

“Wow. You’re the worst doorman ever. I’d like to cancel my reservation.” 

“Come in and follow, child.” He scowled and led him to the cave, “Status of Kaldur and Artemis?” 

“Flying high.” Dick leaned against the glass elevator as they descended, “Where’s Bruce?” 

“Father is on league business.” Like he even believed that for a moment. Dick knew he wouldn’t share anything important. He was a spy now, after all. Damian walked to the med bay and gestured to the examination table, “You are injured.” 

“What gave me away?” He slowly took off his hoodie as he sat on the table, “Or did you finally develop x-ray contacts like you wanted?” Damian waited, unamused, until Dick removed his shirt as well. 

Damian did not flinch, but growled. “Why have you sustained such lacerations?” 

“Master pun-“ 

“Do not refer to that scum as Master, Grayson.” 

“Punished me for disobedience,” Dick spoke with a shaking voice, desperate to avoid his reality. 

“I told you to never allow that man to whip you as if you are a slave.” 

Dick closed his eyes, allowing his brother to begin treating his chest and back. He stayed silent until his chest had been wrapped. “Remove your jeans so that I may treat your legs.” 

“…Damian, I just want to go to bed. It’s so late. Please.” 

“You are hiding injuries. You will give a full report and be treated before you may sleep.” Damian insisted.

“I haven’t been allowed more than four consecutive hours in three months, Dami. I promise we’ll do it all in the morning. Just-just please. I just want to pretend to be normal for one fucking night.” He closed his eyes

Damian rubbed his temples, he hadn’t wanted to break protocol. To do so was to admit the severity of the situation, to address the desperate state Dick was in. He looked at the teen, noticing the bruise across his face, the skeleton-like form, and most disgustingly, the black collar around his neck. “…sleep, then. I will have a doctor in the morning. I expect no resistance when Alfred rouses you for your appointment, however early it may be.” 

“Deal.” Dick jumped off the table, “I’ll be in my room. Night, I guess.” 

Damian nodded. This all felt wrong. One could mistake the interaction for a typical post mission assessment, but it wasn’t. It was the first time he’d seen his brother in 11 months. It took all of Damien’s control to stop himself from demanding Dick to debrief him on every moment he’d been forced under the assassin’s control.  
He watched Grayson retreat upstairs and returned to his seat in front of the bat computer. Without a moment of silence, he dove back into his work. There had be a way to defeat the Light. There had to be a way to return Kaldur and Artemis to safety. There had to be a way to remove his younger brother from the clutches of his long-time obsessive stalker. A man who had nearly driven the boy to insanity the first time he forced him into apprenticeship. 

He couldn’t think of the horrors his actions had directly forced Grayson to feel at the hands of Slade Wilson. He couldn’t let anything slow down his mission. Not even the way he felt his psyche sink deeper into helplessness and guilt. They had Dick back for now, however long that may be. Perhaps that was all that mattered that night.


	2. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian struggles with his memories as Jason confronts him about Dick's arrival.

“Spawn!” Damian jerked his head up and turned to see his brother standing offensively, fists balled, “Tell me what you’re hiding.” Jason glared at him with as much confidence as he could muster being clothed in only boxers and sporting a bed head. 

“Are you so incapable of keeping your voice down inside, Todd?” Damian adjusted his position, resting against the wall outside of the study, “There are some things children need not know.” His mouth curled into a smirk, knowing that every time he jeered at Jason’s age, the angrier it made the former street rat. 

“I’m fully legal, dumbass. Can’t use that anymore.” Jason walked over to him, crossing his arms, “Answer me.” 

“Really? I was unaware of such revolutionary recent legislature. Please, go to the liquor store and buy us something to celebrate your new ability to go to casinos, rent a car and such. We can burn your pathetic fraudulent license, seeing as you won’t need it any-”   
  
“Jesus fucking Christ, get over yourself. What the fuck is going on.” Jason had been wearing that face more often. It was one of distrust, an explicit depiction of his prophecy of Damian’s failure; it formed once Damian first claimed the Bat Suit. Sending one of his lovers, Artemis, into the enemies’ hands did nothing to improve their relationship. 

And then he sold their little brother into slavery. 

Well, he didn’t do that, but he might as well have according to Jason. He’d tried to explain it to him and Tim both. It didn’t help that the entire tale seemed fictional, even to himself. The memory of the night felt cold in his mind as if supernaturally chilled by Fate, as nothing lesser could have designed such a perfect series of events that ended in Dick leaving with Wilson rather than returning home with himself, as he should have. 

Richard had been depressed. In light of the events Bruce had put their family through in the past two years, Damian wasn’t surprised. That and the proximity to the anniversary of the fifteen-year old’s parents’ deaths must have compelled Robin to ask to tag along to the access point after receiving a distress call from Kaldur. The boy always lifted everyone’s spirits on missions, Damien decided they could use the boost, and he allowed Robin to accompany him. 

It seemed everything the man did since dawning the cowl was serious and important. If he was honest, _Damian_ needed the boost, he let his selfish weakness get in the way of being Dick’s guardian. He should have kept him out of it. 

In the two week span from Aqualad and Tigress becoming team K, Young Justice’s first undercover mission, and receiving their first distress signal, he decided that he would not keep Dick out of it. 

Using this alert timed radio system was less secure than Team K’s primary method of communication, using a telepath as a messenger, but it was faster. They could safely make the gamble of someone picking up the line to convey vital information a couple of times. With Artemis and Kaldur acting as double agents, every decision could be lethal and they needed any tool they had. 

Batman and Robin set out for the first time since Damian took his father’s title. Under the cowl, Damian felt a rush of importance as he led his brother through a parking garage near Crime Alley, to an access point to the abandoned subway line. He couldn’t help but laugh as he watched Dick’s focused expression. As if he could memorize his way to the small maintenance station in one trip. It was annoyingly far from other landmarks as evident by the lack of graffiti, thus making it ideal for their purposes.

The dilapidated office in the station had a desk, a radio and a hidden router connected to a hut somewhere in the Pacific Ocean in the port city the Light’s submarine regularly stopped in for supply. Richard waited, standing by Damian’s side as the older of the two set up the radio.

 _“Nightwing to K1.” Damian held the microphone in his gloved hand, he began reciting a series of codewords and numbers to communicate his status and verify his identity._   
  
_“K-K1 to Nightwing.” The stutter in Aqualad’s voice made Damian and Dick exchange knowing glances as they listened to their teammates status. “Palm Cave Alpha, Vitals assessed, position. . .” The rough connection’s static blared through Kaldur’s pause, “-compromised. . . potentially.”_   
_  
“Potentially,” Damian repeated in his disappointed leader voice that he’d maintained since he formed Young Justice. Even after six years none of them became immune to it yet. “Explain.” _

_“Why don’t we skip ahead and get to the point. We are all busy, are we not?” Deathstroke’s voice rang through the speaker, he could feel Richard stiffen as he immediately recognized his former kidnapper’s voice. “I have an offer of a hefty sum for information, some wannabe wanting to win the Boss’ favor. I happen to be privy to a couple of junior leaguers playing villain on Luthor’s very own ship.”_

_Dick was frozen, his eyes closed shut, his fingers moving anxiously outside of his control. Damian kept his eyes on the youngest and spoke calmly into the phone, “You are head of security. I can’t fathom any monetary amount worth more than your reputation.”_

_Wilson’s laugh was followed by his rough response, “The League of Assassins really have let their standards drop. Think, child.” The patronizing, amused tone was so distinctively Wilson, it was as if the man was tangible in front of them, staring them down, rather staring Grayson down.. “There is interest in finding a mole on board. Regardless of which incident incited it, I intend to act. Either I report your little double agents, or I protect them and end the rumors.”_

_Dick began to sign at him rapidly, Damian read something about Slade being dangerous before angrily signing for silence at him. “Obviously you are hired, then,” Damien growled. Dick threw his arms up in frustration. “8% raise from Luthor’s price. No bartering.”_

_“As I said, we are all busy. We both know we are beyond numerical amounts.” The amusement in the mercenary’s voice was evident._

_“I will not_ sell _my father’s position, Wilson.”_

 _“Then I suggest you get creative, Wayne.” The use of his last name jarred him, his left shoulder jerked involuntarily. His mind swirled with assets and nonessential secrets. Anything of value was too precious to let go of. Every villain in the world wanted to know Bruce’s location and mission, what did he have to match that?_ _  
_ _He stalled, letting the small ant walking across the desk he was staring at to pass a crack in the wood before speaking, “Monitored and restricted access to the teleporters-“_

_“No.” Slade rejected his offer immediately, Damian nodded to himself. Predictable. If mobility was a problem for him, Deathstroke would not have made it to where he was. “If you are so unwilling to produce prudent information, I’ll pardon myself and provide Mrs. Crock and Kaldur'ahm’s identities to Luthor.”_

_“Do not run away from further negotiation-“ Damian began, sensing his imminent loss of connection, but once again stopped as Wilson’s speech._

_“5 seconds to give me a better option, Wayne. Five.” Damian took a deep breath. The only thoughts racing through his brain were his trained instinct not to panic. Yet telling himself not to panic did nothing to provide a solution. This wouldn’t have happened if it were Bruce in this cowl and not him. He was about to cause two deaths since he revoked murder at seventeen, the deaths of his family._

_“Three. Two.” Damian couldn’t breathe. Perhaps he no longer needed to. He waited for the line to cut dead. For them to be plunged into the dark reality of the worst-case scenario. And then something worse took its place._

_“Wilson, we have an offer.” Grayson was suddenly holding the receiver._   
_  
“Robin, what a surprise.” The man purred, too knowingly. Too perfectly. “Please, sell me your offer.” His meaning was clear. _

_Robin grit his teeth. “A temporary.” He paused, stressing the word, “. . . temporary, strictly non-lethal contract.”_

_As if he fell from a helicopter in a dream and awoke in his bed suddenly, electrified, that Damien grabbed the radio from his brother. “Absolutely not. We are not offering personal service.”_

_“You are out of options.” Slade annunciated each word, “Let the boy speak or I smash this little speaker.”_

_Damian glares at the desk in front of him, then turns to face Robin. His eyes angry, his jaw with a trapped tenseness, he hands Dick the radio. Robin takes it along with a deep breath, “. . . I will work for you again.”_

_“Your words lack commitment.” Damian wanted to strangle the man so that he could not say such things that made his brother wince, “Be brave, boy.” His twisted amusement nauseated him._

_Dick became stern, his back stiff. “. . . Let me apprentice you, Master. Until Artemis and Kaldur are safe.” He paused, “There will be conditions.”_

_“There will be what I say there will be. You have nothing to bargain with. You will be collected at the Den in Bludhaven in eleven hours.”_

_The radio went dead. Robin set the receiver down._ Jason incessantly repeated his name again and aga- 

“Fucking- Damian!”

“Yes, Jason. I hear you. A little patience would do you well. You are completely unnecessary to this mission yet I will indulge you to cease your tantrum.”

“Whatever makes your dick hard, tell me what you’re hiding.” Jason looked at him dead in the eyes and demanded for a final time.

“Grayson has returned.” Damien quickly tore off the band-aid, “It is temporary. He has been seen by a highly qualified doctor, personally vetted by myself, and is now being analyzed by a psychologist.” 

“He’s back? I thought. . . “ Jason paused, then reached for the door handle. The metal stubbornly stayed firm as he realized it was locked. “He’s hurt? Why the hell is he- what did he do to him?” 

“We are about to find out.” Damian’s face remained neutral, he stretched his neck and shoulder.

“What did the first doctor say?” 

“Exhaustion. Borderline malnutrition, extensive lacerations, superficial wounds, a bruised rib, overworked wrist injury, and a bit lip.” He recited perfectly, enunciating the final injury. “He wasn’t speaking so we are assuming his anxiety at least has been impacted to return him to reduced functionality.” 

“He beat him up and ran him down, yeah? Stop talking like he’s a…like he’s not Dick. Fuck. Or like any of this is acceptable or normal you ass sucking sociopath-” 

“If you want me to speak of the atrocities Grayson most likely has endured based on my actions, I will not waste the effort to stop you. Call me a monster or incapable or whatever you chouse at your own volition. Regardless, you may wait for the doctor with me or you can wait for the doctor alone.” 

Jason growled in the back of his throat, then sat down on the hallway floor, staring at the wall for a moment. “. . . you’re a monster and I will never fucking forgive you.” 

Failure gripped at his heart, more than it should given that Jason was the easiest of his brother’s to predict and Damian had literally told him to say such words. Yet the feeling reminded him of the time before he knew Bruce when he felt it often. It seems his deep fear had been right. His recent success had been only temporary relief from his true pathetic nature. Nothing more. 

“I know, Jason.” He hadn’t slept. “I know.” His tired eyes closed for a moment, and he took a deep breath. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t competent to do this job. It didn’t matter that had already surpassed Bruce, it didn’t matter how pathetically easy that was. Nothing he did now would change any of it. All there was now was to wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support. I've officially taken on this story. I'm apologizing in advance, I'm a college student who struggles with mental illness so sometimes I may be slow to update. This story may get odd. It may get dark. It may be incredibly anti-climatic. I'm excited enough to figure out which one that is though. Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. I want to create this story with you, thus your feedback is so, so important. I love you all and please, take care of yourselves, whatever that means to you. Tata 
> 
> Note on Trigger Warnings:  
> I will not be posting individual trigger warnings for each chapter. This decision was not made lightly. For those who need these warnings, I have two options for you if you would like to read this story. I can message you before each chapter is posted and give you warnings, which I will do happily. If that does not work, please wait until this is marked complete. there will be a complete list of warnings and tags.


	3. Uneaten Fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wayne's wards reconcile after being apart. Dick has yet to speak candidly with his brothers and tensions are raised.

Chapter Three: Uneaten Fish

“There are better ways to get back at the bastard, that’s all I’m saying.” Jason crossed his arms, “I mean, you could wreck his car again.”

“Can we not talk about this?” Dick huffed, watching his hair move with his exaggerated breath, “Damian told you to drop it.” He twirled his fork around the salad, he’d abandoned the thought of actually eating a few minutes after they’d sat down.

“Yeah, well Damian doesn’t have a handprint bruise on his neck, does he?” His voice became icy, “Isn’t training to be an assassin or a fucking slave. Don’t even try to argue with me, dick head, I don’t care about the fucking mission. You were the one who said you never wanted to be like Bruce, but here you are. Sacrificing _everything_ for a-“

“Jason.” Tim interrupted his younger brother with a tired, unassertive voice, “Let him eat.”

“He’s not eating if you haven’t noticed, dipshit.” Jason dramatically gestured to Dick’s full plate. 

The youngest stiffened, “I-I’m just not hungry. I didn’t eat so much with. . .” Dick trailed off, instinctually avoiding the aggressive way Jason responded to hearing _that_ name. It was almost worse than when he heard the Joker’s. “Not that he starved me, he didn’t. I just train a lot and there’s not much ti-“

“Why the fuck are you defending him?” Jason slammed his hand on the table, “I told you, Tim, he’s fucking brainwashing him.”   
  
“Brainwashing doesn’t exist.” Dick protested quietly as Tim glared at Jason and spoke over his brother. 

“You haven’t touched your own food.” Tim asserted, “Do you think I should yell at you to make you eat?”

“Fuck, I just want him to be okay, don’t fucking come at me, Tim.” Jason stabbed his tilapia and shoved a piece in his mouth. “There. That’s all he has to do and I’ll shut up.”

“You don’t have to be s-“ Tim stopped as Dick angrily crammed a bite of fish into his mouth, got up and left the table without another word. After seven years of living with him, Tim had never seen Dick leave the table without being excused. “Dick.” He called after him, but the young Robin continued to walk away.

“That wasn’t my fault.” Jason put up his hands defensively. 

Tim didn’t respond immediately, instead choosing to stare at Dick’s all but full plate. “. . . we need to call B.”

Jason nearly choked, “He’s the fucking reason this happened!”

“Damian made the decision to keep Kal and Artemis undercover – not him. He needs to know, he can help.” Tim said his words slowly, praying that he would not, once again, be the only son who believed in their father. “He would do something if he knew. He needs to know.”

“Yeah, heard you the first time, idiot. What would he do? Kill Deathstroke?” Jason slammed his knife down, making a fist with his other hand, “He didn’t care when his youngest was beaten to death before.”

Tim reflexively took a sharp inhale, “He could convince Damien to stop the mission.”

“. . .do you really think he’s going to let him go? I mean, we had to move hell and earth to get Dick out of his command last time.”

“No.” Jason responded immediately, suddenly pained, “Which is why we need to know what he’s planning. We need Dick to talk to us, someone to read his mind. He doesn’t tell us shit, which is gonna make it close to impossible to plan his rescue mission.”

Tim threw his head back. A dry, sarcastic laugh came from the back of his throat, “Never had a hostage mission where the victim voluntarily goes ba-“

“It’s not voluntarily.” Jason spit with a huff of hot air and a click of his tongue, “Golden boy will do anything the spawn tells him.” Jason pushed his plate away from him, towards the large bouquet in the middle of the table. His eyes remained on a rose, perfectly sculpted to match one’s idea of a rose. For a moment, Jason wondered what it smelled like. “He’s like a fucking slave.”

“Do you have to curse every time you open your mouth?” Tim asked without expecting an answer, mainly to distract himself from the actual content of his brother’s profanity. “. . . he can’t say 'Slade' again. Don’t make him. Don’t get mad at him when he calls him what he calls him, Jason.”

“I’m not mad at him,” Jason interjected with disgust as he pulled his food back in front of him, beginning to work on the grilled vegetables, all sliced in perfect precision. At least they could always count on Alfred’s consistency. “Why the hell does he call him ‘Master’ when the fucker isn’t here.” He asked without asking, “You can’t tell me he’s not a slave when he can’t even say it himself.”

“Jason.” Damian hissed from the doorway. For a moment, Jason swore it was his adopted father and not the heir. “May I speak with you.” He was still in his suit from work, still holding his briefcase. Jason wondered how long he’d been listening to them.

“Nah.” Jason grinned defiantly, shrugging off the anxious pit of worry in his stomach. “I’m a very busy man, you know.”

“I require your assistance.” Damian walked over and pulled Jason’s chair out with him still in it, “We must know what Wilson is doing. Grayson will not tell me. He will not tell Tim. He might tell you.”

Tim sighs, “He’s not going to tell Jason, Damian. He won’t tell anyone.” He cracked his neck and took a deep, controlled breath.

“You don’t know that. Maybe I’m the only one who he _will_ tell. I know what he’s going through.” Jason stood, “He was the one who got me to come home. I can get him to tell us.”

Damian nods, “Then get to it. We need to start reversing his conditioning if we have any hope of a full recovery.”

Tim wanted to gag. Vomit, even. The emotions swelled from his stomach and into his throat. For a moment, he felt that if he opened his mouth, more than words would come out. “W-Wally. Get Wally and Roy. They deserve to know.”

“If we tell them, they will tell Father.” Damian shakes his head, “If he gets involved, we lose control of the situation.”

“Like we control it now.” Jason started walking out of the room, “You ladies can talk about what you wanna do all you want, I’m talking to Golden Boy.” He nearly escaped when Alfred emerged from the kitchen.

“I’m afraid that may be difficult seeing as Master Richard has left the manor.” Alfred kept a neutral expression, his words were restrained and cold. Jason mused that the man had to bite his tongue more than anyone else in their broken, blended family. How he continued to do so without a mental breakdown, Jason would never know.

“He was told to remain inside.” Damian instantly starts moving to the hallway, “Where did he go?”

“He told me not to tell you, and I believe his wishes deserve respect.” Alfred looked directly at the oldest, “He is safe, Master Damian.”

“Alfred.” Damian shook his head, “It is imperative that Grayson is fully debriefed and he has resisted my interventions thus far.”

“He is safe, Master Damian.” Alfred repeated, “The boy desperately needs normalcy, something he can’t get here, anymore.” Alfred picks up Dick’s full plate, “I believe it is what he needs.”

“Useless.” Damian groaned with signature Wayne fury, “Does he not listen to anything I say? Does he not understand how important his survival is to me? Every moment we are not undoing Wilson’s work we come closer to losing him entirely.”

Alfred ignores his words and continues to the kitchen before Damian finishes his rant. Jason looked at his brothers, “You don’t seriously not know where he went, right?”

“Enlighten me.” Damian cracked his neck, frustrated and furious.

“Nah.” Jason grinned, “I have to go. Completely unrelated to Dickie Boy,” Jason could see Tim’s light smile, looking at him knowingly, “of course.”

Damian moved suddenly and swiftly, grabbing Jason’s collar and pushing him against the wall. “Tell me now, Todd.” 

“Let go of me, Wayne,” Jason growled, feeling trapped, controlled. One could say traumatized, but of course, that was nonsense. “Thought you said no one was a slave here.”

The two stared at each other, eyes locked and hands unmoving. Tim sighed, “Let him go, Damian. Dick will be back tomorrow, Jason will make sure of that. Right, Jason?”

The two remained engaged in an intense stare, “Yeah.” Jason resisted the urge to spit in his eldest brother’s face.

After a moment, Damian released his collar and stepped back, “. . . go then. Be back before eight tomorrow morning.”

“Sure thing Bruce.” Jason smoothed his collar, glaring at him.

Damian’s eyes widened, anger growing. Instead of rising to Jason's bait, he walked out of the room as abruptly as he entered.

Jason looked at Tim, wanting to say something, but instead sighed and stormed out of the house. Tim only relaxed into his chair when he heard the front door slam. He looked at the empty chairs around him. It only took one year to go from eating with five people to eating alone. Tim stood up, suddenly having lost his appetite, he descended to the cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for everyone who left comments, kudos or even just read it. I love hearing your feedback so this fic can be it's best. October can be a hard month if anyone of you are struggling, I hope this helps. Take care of yourselves and I will attempt to update faster. Deal?


	4. Morning Steam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick receives his first communication from Deathstroke

Chapter Four:

_“Just a blanket, Slade.” Dick gaped at the man standing in front of him, “I’ve told you everything.” The marbles in his throat made of swollen nodes of skin and irritated flesh rubbed against each other, his voice reduced now to a whisper._

_“We both know that’s not the truth Little Bird.” His metal boots clinked against the floor as he approached the fifteen-year-old. His muscled, Kevlar-clothed arm extended to grip his naked shoulder, “Tell me now, Richard.”_

_Robin’s body retracted from Deathstroke’s touch, the long scars on his back flaring with memories his Master’s smell evoked. Richard shook his head until Slade was in front of him, holding his jaw firmly. His eyes looked upon him hungrily, searching every inch of his apprentice’s face. His eye narrowed as Robin refused to meet his gaze, “... .Perhaps you need a reminder.”_

_Slade’s left hand sunk to Robin’s inner thigh. As Robin began to shake, Slade moved into check._

* * *

Dick probably would have shot out of bed had it not been for the weighted blanket draped over the queen bed. Moonlight streamed in through half broken blinds, hanging diagonally in both windows. Wally slept on his left, curled around him with his arm around Dick’s waist, drool just barely hitting the pillow. On his right, the covers lay disheveled and empty.

He carefully removed himself from Wally’s grasp and rose from the bed. Walking to the closet, he picked out one of Roy’s t-shirts and slipped it on. He’d passed out shortly after arriving that night. The teenager was completely disoriented and left with only a vague idea of the time as he walked through the dark apartment. The couch had a couple of extra pillows and a blanket set up, the tv was on, a game show playing quietly. Yet the room was dark and empty. The set up was familiar, Dick’s body autopiloted him to the balcony. As he pushed back the blinds, he indeed saw the backs of Jason and Roy, leaning over the railing, holding a couple of joints in their hands.

“You’re both still stoners, glad to know some things stay the same.” Dick grinned his hands in his pockets.

“Grayson, get over here.”, Roy turned to face him, ignoring his comment. Dick walked over to his side, kissing Roy. “You went to sleep so fast, you must have needed it.” Roy’s eyes searched Dick over, “You been taken care of yourself?”

“Yeah, just working a lot.” Dick stretched, “Uh, what time is it, by the way?”

Jason tapped his phone, turning on the lock screen, “Almost three am.”

“Makes sense then. Jason, were you planning on going back to the manor? I can call a ride if not,” Richard tried to sound casual.

“You’re trying to leave already? Hey now, we just got our boy back.” Roy swirled the joint out on the balcony and put both hands around his boyfriend, “Why in the world do you want to leave at three am?”

“Still jetlagged, you know, from my offshore missions. I feel like getting in a workout, it’s an okay schedule, actually. Training at four, I mean.”

Jason takes a deep hit off the joint, “Can’t drive. High.” His tone seemed strained and rough.

Dick nods, “That’s... .oddly responsible, Jay.” He chuckles, “I’ll call for a car then.”

“Fucking rich kids,” Roy mumbled playfully.

“No.” Jason spoke over him, “You don’t need to work out at four am, do you? Roy’s right. There’s no fucking reason for that.”

Dick looked at him knowingly, frustrated. Roy looked in between them, observing their interactions closely. “Jay,” Dick began, “You get like this when you smoke, you know? You don’t have to come with me, but I just wanna work out, okay. . . we can talk about it in the car if you want.”

Jason rolls his eyes, “Yeah Dick. I’m just fucking high. That’s the problem here. Fine, call the car.”

Roy rubbed his neck as Dick pulled out his phone and began typing in their information, speaking without looking up, “I’m really sorry guys, I’ll be back soon I just-you know-anxious to get back to patrol and all.”

“. . .Whatever is happening Dick, we’re here.” Roy looked at Dick, then at the handprint on his neck, then back at his boyfriend. “You need to go workout at four am, got it. I’ll tell Wally when he wakes up.”

Dick nodded, and hugged Roy tightly, his eyes closing tightly, trustingly. “Love you, I’ll be back soon,” Richard lets go and starts to walk back inside, Roy salutes him lazily.

Jason huffs as he waited for Dick to change and collect his things, standing in silence with Roy. They didn’t do much for goodbyes, as per tradition between them. He walked silently with his brother into the town car, their stiff posture and tongues-speaking enough.

-

Tim had never seen his brother disengage from a match, or anyone, in such a short time frame as he did when a loud beeping came from his cellphone. As if he had compelled the air around him to push his older brother backward, Dick had jumped backward and called a match, immediately dashing to fetch his cellphone. Under different circumstances, it would have been hilarious to see the juvenile behavior.

His brother had been training as Tim came down at 6:30, Tim invited they spar together. Dick hesitated but agreed to the practice. Even after only a few months, Dick had improved tremendously. His reflexes were the most heightened, a concerning leap.

“Position unsecure Master. Red Robin present.” Robin spoke into the phone, his face neutral. Tim’s body seemed to heat up, the blood pumping faster as he walked closer to his brother, his face contorted in worry. “. . .Yes Master.” Dick responded to a question inaudible to Tim. “In private, Master, please.” Dick closes his eyes. “. . .Thank you, Master.”   
  
Tim looked away from Dick as he spoke to Deathstroke through the cellphone. It felt invasive to face him as he did so, personal. “. . .He isn’t here.” Dick pauses, “I would tell you, I’m safe.” He paused a few more moments, “Thank you, Master. Yes, Master. Understood.”

Tim waited until the cellphone was turned off. Dick carefully placed it back into the duffle bag, and glanced at Tim like a dog that had just misbehaved. “. . .He’s going to be checking in. . .a few times a day.”

Tim shook his head, “I am so sorry, Dick. You should not need to be controlled like that.” Tim looked at the duffle bag, “Who was he asking about? If they were here? If you were safe?” Tim raised an eyebrow and leaned forward.

Robin laughed awkwardly, trying to ease the tension, “Ah well, it seems Mast-“ He stopped immediately, halting, “D-de-Deathstroke, I-I mean, is on the anti-Bruce side of the aisle. . .”

“Deathstroke wants to make sure you are safe? Therefore away from your father?” Tim furrowed his eyebrows, “What do you mean Dick?”

Dick sighs, “Don’t worry about it Tim, it’s just- he doesn’t like him because he’s trying to be my mentor, which Bruce is a competitor for. . .and all.”

“He doesn’t know his location, right? Or details about Bruce’s mission?” Tim clarified. 

Dick nods, “Yeah, of course not. That was one of our conditions of mentorship when Damian and I made the deal. It was Slade’s original intent when he contacted us about his blackmail of Kaldur and Artemis.

Tim began walking towards the showers, “. . .There’s nothing. . .” Tim stopped himself, a knot forming in his stomach. Old feelings felt excavated,

_“My bed is always open to you, Timmy. You know that.”_

“It’s just odd.” Tim continued, “Deathstroke asking worriedly about Bruce being here.”

_“Indeed, you look much better in that uniform than Damian, fits you perfectly.”_

“I just want to make sure that there’s nothing he knows that we don’t know. We need to be informed about everything going on to take care of you. It’s serious.” Tim looked into Dick’s eyes.

“What are you talking about? Everything’s fine. You guys know everything, of course, you do.” The acrobat looked off to his side in frustration, “I mean. . .I don’t want to spend my time with all of you talking about things that happened with Slade, you know? If you have specific questions, I can answer them, I guess.” Dick shrugged. 

Tim slowly shook his head, “. . .you’re right Dick. I suppose you should try to enjoy your time and recover. I want to talk to Damian about letting Black Canary in on the mission so you can talk to her, I think it could be good for you.”

“What do you mean?” Dick said curtly, “Not like I’m doing fine now. I mean, I just had a phone call, that’s all. Everything’s fine.”

“If that’s what you say Dick, if that’s what you say.” Tim nodded. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the slow update, I hope everyone is doing alright during these incredibly trying times. I know this chapter is short and poorly written but I wanted to talk with you all. 
> 
> I have an idea for another story involving alpha/omega dynamics, and a similar theme to this one that may be more interesting. I'm going through some dark times and I'm interested to write dark stories folks. Let me know if you would be crushed if this story would be put on hold for another or if the other sounds interesting.


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